


Goodbye, But Slowly

by Luna_Cat16



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 19:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2634047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Cat16/pseuds/Luna_Cat16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A oneshot detailing the time between the end of the Grail War and Aoi's death, in varying scenes, mostly from Rin's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodbye, But Slowly

**Author's Note:**

> aoi is my second favorite character i should be writing happier things about her but no. no instead i write this. my grasp on small children who are both super grown up and not is far from perfect so while reviewing this i was pretty much going '???' for rin's characterization so i do apologize for that. pretty much me waxing eloquent on extended headcanons otherwise though, whoops.

Tohsaka Aoi lived for a year and a half after the Fourth Holy Grail War.

Of course, ‘living’ referred merely to the presence of a heartbeat and brain activity.

No one had expected her to even wake up, but the day she opened her eyes came as a joy to the medical staff present – followed soon after by a tinge of regret.

“Your mother woke up, Rin.”

That was what Kirei told her once she got home from school, and those words were what powered her through the hospital’s halls, running as fast as her small legs could carry her. She forgot that she wasn’t supposed to run indoors, and she forgot that she was acting terribly inappropriate for the Tohsaka family heir.

Mother was better! Father might have been gone, but now that mother was here…it wouldn’t be as bad.

She stopped in front of the door to her mother’s room and took a deep breath. For all the excitement she had, Rin knew that when people were sick, you couldn’t just run in and jump on their bed, no matter how much you wanted to. The last time she did that was at home, and not only did she send mother into another coughing fit, but father had practically chased her out! So this time she opened the door and walked in slowly, perhaps even a bit cautiously. She still had a beaming smile and a barely-contained excitement in her, however, and it grew the closer she drew to the hospital bed.

Her mother was propped up and staring straight ahead, but other than the pale complexion and the bandages around her neck, she looked fine to Rin. She didn’t seem to notice her, but that was alright. After all, she just woke up, and Rin was familiar with the sort of spacey waking-up grogginess that her mother must have been feeling.

So she spoke up. “Mother? I’m here to see you!”

Her mother turned her head, and stared at her daughter with glazed over eyes, which widened slowly in recognition. “…Rin? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“It’s over now, so I came here.”

“Ah.” A pause, and the rusty gears in Aoi’s mind seemed to turn. “I’m sorry Rin, but I’m not feeling very well today. Could you and Sakura get your father for me?”

Rin’s brow furrowed, and she glanced around her briefly. “Mother…? Sakura – She’s…”

“My apologies, Rin. I thought you knew.”

She quickly swiveled her head towards the source of the new voice. Kirei was there, standing in the doorway like some monstrous, black shadow. She knew that the priest would be here. He was the one who took her to the hospital, after all. However, she didn’t think he’d actually come in.

Then again, she didn’t think the visit would end up like this, either.

She stared at Kirei quizzically, but other than that, she remained composed – tried to, at least. “Knew what…?”

 

* * *

 

With much of her motor function restricted, Aoi remained bedridden. The servants were responsible for her basic care, but the rest was left up to Rin and Kirei during his frequent visits. At first, there was the hope for improvement; the idea that one day, Rin would wake up and her mother would be there making breakfast, and helping Rin put on her jacket before she went to school. She’d give Rin a smile – maybe a sad one, because she’d know that father and Sakura were gone, but it would still be a smile – and wish her good luck on the big test, or the class project, or just tell her to have a nice day. Maybe she would walk with her to the end of the property, and see her off, to make sure she would be safe.

But that wouldn’t happen anymore.

Rin asked Kirei if he could heal her once. After all, he was really good at healing magic, so he had to be able to do something, right? But instead, he just shook his head slowly. It was too severe, he said.

“It’s different from closing a wound, Rin. I can’t heal what’s already died.”

And so Rin was forced to accept her mother’s situation. She tried to see her every day after that, though it was rarely for long. It could be so difficult to hold a conversation, and sometimes she couldn’t even start anything.

Aoi did have her better days, though. Those days, when Rin forced herself to go in – for despite her relatively mature handling of this tragedy, holding her head up high and plastering a smile over her face could only go so far, leaving her feeling too tired to actually _want_ to go in most of the time – she would be met with a pleasant surprise. Her mother would still be in her nightgown, the tea at her bedside cold and neglected, and her eyes unfocused and lifeless even when looking in Rin’s direction, but she would _speak_ to her.

How was school? Did you have fun? Are your friends doing alright? The questions she asked weren’t spoken to a Rin only she could see, but to _her_. And she listened to her responses as well. Rin’s hold on her mother was tenuous at best, and she weaved the topics of conversation with care, making sure that it didn’t take a wrong turn that would bring back the husband and daughter only she could see and then she’d be lost – but at least she could pretend they were a normal family.

Broken, yes, but still normal.

At least until the next day.

 

* * *

 

 

No one knew how this happened to her – or Rin didn’t. She was just one of the many victims claimed by the Fourth Holy Grail War, just as her father had been.

However, even less clear was the matter of what happened to Matou Kariya. She remembered the last time she had seen him alive and well, over a year ago. She remembered a figure appearing out of the dark with a nightmarish visage a couple months ago, resembling him in ways far too close for her comfort. She had fainted then, but she wished she hadn’t. What had happened to him?

She often wondered about this, mostly because her mother had forgotten about him entirely. Uncle Kariya was erased from her mind as far as Rin knew, with no mention of him ‘coming to visit’ or ‘bringing presents’. One day she actually tried to ask her.

“Say, mother, do you know where Uncle Kariya went?”

Aoi ignored her, and continued to stare out of her bedroom window, with the same distant smile and dull eyes she always had.

That was also the first night she began to scream.

Aoi had never slept much after the Grail War, at least in any regular manner. She napped, but the concept of sleep cycles was unknown to her body now. Sometimes, after a late night in her father’s workshop – _her_ workshop, Rin would hear her faint voice travel down the empty halls, when the rest of the house should have been sleeping. However, those times she was simply talking, telling Sakura a bedtime story or reassuring Tokiomi about something. It had almost become normal.

Then, at around three in the morning, Rin woke up to the sound of loud sobbing. She sat up in bed, holding the covers close to her, her heartbeat quickening as she tried to decide just what was causing that awful noise. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and her waking mind gradually registered that the only possible source could have been from --

The sobs turned into screams, and she flinched at the sudden change in volume. It might have been muffled by walls and distance, but that didn’t change how _loud_ it was. No, there was something else too. Echoing through the dark room was a pure expression of despair. It chilled her, like it was ice piercing through her ears, communicating only the sheer emotion.

She couldn’t understand it. Why was this happening? Why was she screaming now, of all days? It wouldn’t stop either, only settle down every few moments to gather up breath, or quiet into a lull of sobbing, but then it would pick up again, just as strong as before. Rin should have left her room. She should have gotten up, put on her robe, and tried to stop her mother from screaming.

But she didn’t. She was too afraid for that, too afraid of the chance that she’d open her door and see whatever horrible thing had possessed her mother, turning her into the screaming monster she sounded like. No, not a monster. Still human. And if she saw that human now, what about the morning after? Would she be able to look at her mother without thinking of what she saw the night before?

She would have preferred a monster to the truth.

It was better to just sleep. She couldn’t though, no matter how hard she tried. She’d feel herself starting to drift off, and then the screams would start again, jolting her eyes open and making her heart race. It must have taken hours, because she remembered finally being able to drift off, only to have her alarm clock ringing a few moments later.

The screams continued even after that night, but over time, like with many things, Rin became used to them. However, it did seem to come as a surprise to Kirei when he visited. His intrigue left a foul taste in Rin’s mouth, especially when he actually asked her about it.

“What caused it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you mention something?”

The memories of her one-sided conversation with her mother flowed in, but Rin didn’t let him notice. She just shook her head, and left.

She decided not to ask about Kariya ever again.

 

* * *

 

 

After her father’s funeral, things fell into a routine. Go to school, come home, do homework, and study the texts her father left her.

Her mother was gradually pushed out of this schedule.

It wasn’t that Rin never wanted to see her, but she had changed.

She was starting to get worse.

It was like she didn’t see her anymore. Even when she stepped in, Aoi didn’t turn her head. She rarely even acknowledged her voice, and if she did, it simply started her down an entirely different road. She was talking to a closed door, one that would open up occasionally, only to reveal a wall behind it.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it Mother?”

“I think I’m actually starting to get ahead in my studies now! Father would be proud.”

“I almost blew something up the other day though, so I should be more careful…”

It was only then that her mother’s distant eyes widened, and she perked up; a robot finally moving its broken gears. “Were you hurt?” The robot’s hands reached out to grasp the empty air, her eyes lazily scanning the nonentity before her. “Your father needs to keep a better eye on you two, I don’t know what I’d do if anything serious happened.”

She continued to talk, and Rin, feeling a pang in her heart she knew she would never soothe -- one calling for the warm, comforting hug of a mother to tell her everything was alright, this was just a horrible dream -- slipped out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Given the time needed for the Crest transplantation, along with the recovery process, Kirei needed to stay at the household for quite some time when he returned. It was his responsibility to watch over Rin, and make sure the affairs of the household were running smoothly.

This also included managing Aoi’s care.

Her situation was an interesting paradox for him. Someone like her, stuck in pitiful circumstances caused by his own scheming, should have been a delight to observe. He should have savored her disconnected and wilting state. But somehow, watching her only led to dissatisfaction, even discomfort.

It frustrated him to no end.

_“I killed your husband, Aoi. I used the same knife he gave to me, and when he choked on his own blood I smiled.”_

He wanted to say that. He wanted to see what would happen if he just told it to her, while Rin was gone and the house would keep his secrets. But he couldn’t. He knew she wouldn’t have reacted, and her mind would dodge even considering an awful truth like that. It was too damaged to comprehend it, so it would just raise up a wall of happy memories. The mention of a knife would lead to her chastising Tokiomi for not being careful with the kitchen knife, or something similar and equally benign.

Besides, it was almost below him to try and kick her while she was down, so to speak. While he was not a righteous man by any means, or one to place himself above the world like Gilgamesh, there were some lines he wouldn’t cross. The enjoyment from it would be minimal and stale, and likely give him a bitter aftertaste.

So he looked on, watching her stare blankly at the wall, trying to pretend that those were the only reasons he found her unpleasant to be around. It wasn’t because of her frail, bony body, which had started to resemble a withering flower, yet still retained a serene smile on her chapped lips. It wasn’t because of the various medical machines -- anachronistic intruders to the mansion’s older sensibilities – hooked up to her body, feeding her because she ate so little, and tracking her already near-extinguished life. It wasn’t because of the musty, cloying scent of decay that filled the room, like one would find at a hospice. It wasn’t because all of these things were so familiar to him, and he would sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, see a flash of white hair instead of Aoi’s tangled green, or gold eyes instead of murky green, and for a moment he would be remembering a different time and place, with another gentle and wilted woman, and the last words on her lips –

No. Tohsaka Aoi was just too pitiful of a sight for him. An empty shell, milked of all it was worth.

Though perhaps not entirely empty. When he spent the night, he still managed to crack a smile or two if she started to sob – though even that seemed to be less of an occurrence than before, according to Rin.

 

* * *

 

 

Indeed, as if time was slowly poisoning her, Aoi was growing worse. She was withdrawing. The nightly screams quieted down, and eventually faded into nothing at all. The conversations she had with her memories turned into mumbling, and often just silence. She slept more – at first a good sign, but she slept too much, often with a whole day passing by before she woke up, and only hours before she closed her eyes again. Apart from the IVs giving her nutrition she ate almost nothing, as the caretakers could hardly get her to put food into her mouth, let alone swallow it.

Rin didn’t see her anymore, and Kirei only checked in momentarily on his visits. The room was empty, and what little presence she had was already draining. Though was it just drifting off, like a sand hill being eroded by the wind, its parts fading away into nothing? Or maybe her mind just had enough of the minimal interaction with the world. Maybe she was still in there, with Tokiomi and Sakura, but living far differently. Were they going on a trip to Europe, travelling through lush forests and old historical landmarks? Had her mind decided to get rid of the concept of mages altogether, and left her living a fantastically average life with a normal wealthy husband, who wouldn’t go off to die in a foolish war or give away her youngest daughter? Maybe she was happy in there – she never smiled anymore, so no one could really tell.

Then again, she might have also been trapped by the nightmares her mind refused to face. But did it really matter anymore? She was almost gone.

Almost there.

 

* * *

 

 

“Rin, your mother passed away while you were gone.”

She had just arrived from school when she saw Kirei. His presence was a frequent, although unwelcome occurrence, and she had been prepared to simply hang up her coat and walk past him with a dismissive greeting, like she would any other day. But apparently, that wasn’t going to happen.

“She did? Oh.”

Her tone of voice was neutral, her face only gaining the hints of sadness on it, and she noticed Kirei raise an eyebrow, obviously puzzled. “You seem to be rather unaffected by this.”

“You know that’s not true.” Rin’s eyes shot daggers at him, despite her calm voice. “Have the funeral preparations begun?”

“Yes. If things go well she’ll be buried next to your father; I’m sure they both would have wanted it.” In response Rin nodded, and then walked past Kirei, continuing to her room.

It should have been unusual, how little she felt about her mother’s death. Yet, something she’d never admit to Kirei -- though she didn’t doubt that the priest already derived it from their exchange moments ago – was that Aoi was already dead to her. In her mother’s later stages she hardly ever visited her. She was simply too busy with both school and magic studies, which left her exhausted at the end of the day. Besides…

She lingered for a year and a half.

A year and a half of an essentially absent mother.

A year and a half for initial grief, for the intense longing for Aoi’s comfort, for the lonely nights dreaming of a better family.

A year and a half for her to accept that her mother wasn’t going to get better, and her bedridden state and conversations with the air were the new norm, just as much as her absent sister and dead father were.

A year and a half for her feelings to occasionally spike into frustration, as her young, angry mind wished for her mother to shut up forever so she could sleep in peace instead of hearing screams and sobs – a wish soon retracted by reminding herself that she couldn’t help it, it was wrong to think such things, wrong and immature.

A year and a half for her to harden, as Aoi began to slip away, and her studies and responsibilities increased beyond what any child her age should have to deal with.

A year and a half for her to consider her mother already dead.

There wasn’t any build up to her death, or a night of worry, or a sudden call to the hospital. It was almost sad, how insignificant Kirei’s announcement was, a remark said like a greeting after a normal day at school.

How’s the weather? Dinner will be at eight. Your mother is dead.

Was it bad for her to consider her death to be so mundane? Maybe she wouldn’t feel this way days later, and all of the memories and grief would hit her like a truck, but she wouldn’t know that now. Instead the daily routine continued on. She took out her workbook and a pencil. Problems 5-20. The clock ticked on, and time trudged onwards at the same pace it always had.

Though, she could at least feel a slight bit of relief in her heart. It was about time mother left. She wasn’t suffering anymore, and she wasn’t withering away in her body, a specter that should have been gone long ago.

Finally. He must have missed her, after all.


End file.
